Spotlight on: el ómnibus

I've never lived in a large city for an extended period of time, so I've never had the opportunity to develop a preference for one form of public transportation over another. However, little more than one week has passed since I arrived in Montevideo, and I do believe I'm developing a soft spot for "el ómnibus."

With no subway system to speak of, you're left with two options in Montevideo--taxi or ómnibus. There are several reasons I prefer the latter:

• Cost. A trip on the bus will be between $18-27 (approx. $1-$2 USD), whereas a cab ride starts at around $27 (again in pesos). There is a bus stop about 2 blocks from my house, so the winner here is clear.
• No directions! On the ómnibus, you need only tell them "una hora" "dos horas" o "común" and your work is done. I imagine this will matter less as I become a better Spanish speaker, but giving directions is awful right now. Me with my strong accent, the driver with theirs, and a plexiglass wall between us to muffle the sound--a recipe for pure confusion.
• People-watching. Lower your eyebrows; we all do it. This one is self-explanatory for the most part, I think. People-watching for me also means people-listening. Some might call it eavesdropping, but I think it's qualitatively different when the goal is to get accustomed to the Uruguayan manner of speaking rather than garner information. 
• The music. Hands down the most entertaining part of the ride. Sometimes there are musicians on the bus who will play a song or two before getting off, which is pretty great, but for me the best is the radio. As far as I can tell, the ómnibus playlist consists of mostly 80s classic rock and disco hits, with a few other top 40 hits from the '90s, '00s, and now mixed in. We're talking a whole lot of Bryan Adams (like this, this, and this (but unfortunately none of this (yet))). There may or may not be a series of "Today on Ómnibus" posts coming your way with particularly enjoyable songs.

The list could go on, but this post is long enough already, yeah? Yeah. By the way, I took this picture on Friday (El día internacional del turista). This bus is about to take me, Mary, and Lily (other students in the Middlebury program) to our first tango lesson. Legit. :D

"¡Como Uruguay no hay!"

I know that my family is itching to see photographs, and I know that it would be nice of me to write some kind of extended blurb about the first few days. However, whenever I think too long in English, it interferes with my (limited) ability to think in Spanish. We can't have that, can we?

Instead, please accept this panoramic photo of "La Rambla" and one of the many beautiful Uruguayan beaches. The guy in the middle is Federico, my tutor estudiantil (o "amigo automático," as my program coordinator is fond of saying). He has graciously volunteered to listen to me speak in broken Spanish on a regular basis. A round of applause for Federico, please (and give yourself a pat on the back if you are reading this).  

"White Person Travel Bingo" OR "Why I was almost too self-conscious to purchase a moleskine notebook"

...from Barnes & Noble, if you care to know.

The context for my indecision? "Stuff White People Like," a book/blog by Christian Lander that defines and catalogs "the unique taste of millions." I have slowly been losing my ability to laugh at the book in a non-ironic way (irony, by the way, is #50 on the list), and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. Just this week I've attended an Oscar party, subscribed to an Onion-like news blog (actually worth a look, btw), and proclaimed aloud that Uruguayans don't wear flip-flops. What kind of crackpot claim is that? I don't even know.

What's next? Study abroad, traveling, delighting in being the only white person around, watching Wes Anderson movies on the plane? And what if, someday soon, I'm able to clear an entire "White Person Travel Bingo" board by simply looking in the mirror? I'm not convinced this is a downward spiral, my friends, but a spiral nonetheless. And I'm dizzy.

So, I spent about 10 minutes (or 5 minutes, but it's safe to say entirely too long) in front of the shelf of "legendary" moleskine notebooks contemplating all of this. Just as I began to ponder the sociological implications of my own internal conflict, I thought "this is stupid," and plucked a pack of three plain notebooks from the shelf.

I've decided to start drawing again. Nothing fancy, just an object/figure study now and then, but enough to get back into the habit. A few weeks ago, somebody suggested that I try to draw something I see in Uruguay each day, and the idea stuck. Here's the inaugural 5-minute sketch I did last night. Seems only too appropriate for a girl heading to such a sunny place. 

"Ergwayneean Pesos"

Over the past several months, I've discovered that so much about Uruguay confuses the hell out of people: the pronunciation of its name (oo-roo-GWY), its general position on the globe, its primary language (Spanish), and its appeal to students studying abroad (i.e. me) are some of its most basic confounding properties. I'm not complaining; I signed on for this. In fact, Uruguay's obscurity was one of the many reasons I chose to study abroad there (you know, immersion and whatnot).

It should come as no surprise, then, that hunting down Uruguayan pesos has been difficult. One bank tried valiantly to convince me that what I really needed were euros. I declined their offer. At another bank, I ended up playing this really comical game of telephone in which I described what I needed to the teller, she spoke to the branch manager on the phone, and he looked up "ergwayneean pesos" in the system. No dice. Finally, I ordered them online from a company based in Kentucky. It took all of five minutes to complete the order and they arrived three days later. I think the lesson to be learned here is clear.

Anyway, when my pesos arrived, I opened the envelope and found this:

What, you ask? A bill for 20 pesos uruguayos. However, what makes this particular note curious are the six Spanish cognates scribbled in the margin: "FRAUDE," "AMPLIO," "GOBIERNO," "CORRUPTO," "TRAIDOR," and "MAFIOSO." Or, for the non-cognate-inclined, "fraud," "ample/broad," "government," "corruption," "traitor," and "mafia/mobster." 

I've been trying to come up with a creative explanation as to how these particular words ended up on this particular bill, especially since reputable sources have listed Uruguay as the second least corrupt nation in Latin America. Truly, this is a conundrum. If you come up with anything good, please let me know. Comments below are always appreciated. ;D

While I have yet to come up with an intriguing explanation for these six words, I have been inspired to write a six-word memoir, either for my life as it stands now or for my study abroad experience once it is over. Or, if I'm really really ambitious, I could tackle one for every week I'm on here. Don't get too excited, though; I've found there's a pretty strong, positive correlation between ambition and free time. 

By the way, if you've never heard of the six-word memoir project, I suggest you click here and read on, my friends. Ernest Hemingway can tell a story with six words, and so can you. One small step toward making brevity and eloquence our strong suits, eh?

Oh, and here are more pesos uruguayos forthehellofit:

Countdowns are fun.

We've arrived at the single digits! The counter below displays the amount of time I have left until I step on the plane in Spokane.